


Drinking Through for a Clear View

by MsJackofAllFandoms



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Drunken Revelations, Excessive Drinking, Insular narrative, M/M, Not A Happy Ending, Rated for swearing, Roger's bad vision, Small bit of vomit, Unrequited Love, but not a sad one either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24073567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJackofAllFandoms/pseuds/MsJackofAllFandoms
Summary: Roger gets very drunk,  he only has nice things to say about John, Brian might be a curtain, and poor Freddie gets insulted and goes off to bed.It also leads to a revelation.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38





	Drinking Through for a Clear View

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on a 5+1 story for a few months now and this grew from one of the bits I'd written for it but wasn't happy about. So now it stands on it's own and maybe some day in the future i'll finish the 5+1 story.

There are two Freddies in front of him, neither looking very happy, and then another person joins them at his side. He sees familiar shoes on the floor, funny ones, he wouldn’t wear them himself if he was paid to, but he looks up and all he sees is a curtain of black. It was strange but also familiar for some reason, so he didn’t mind. 

The words blind drunk were whispered somewhere in the vestiges of his brain but he didn’t think he was really blind. He could still see two Freddies. They looked amused now, which was an improvement. 

“Christ. How much has he had!? I told you to keep an eye on him!” Roger knew that voice. He liked that voice! The black curtain was a friend!

He felt himself being pulled along. 

“I lost track of him and his drinks when the bloody red head turned up and they went off together." That was Freddie! "What did you want me to do, darling, tie him to me?”

Conversation continued on around him but he let it all wash over him. The sharp barbs could do nothing to pierce the warm cloud he was wrapped up in from all the alcohol he’d drunk. It was nice… Until suddenly, a blast of cold air hit him in the face and he felt himself listing to the side a bit from the change of equilibrium. 

“Oh no you don’t” the black curtain said. He patted it in thanks. “Okay, let’s keep our hands to ourselves please, Roger. Did he have absinthe again?”

Freddie laughed sharply. “Absinthe? In that fucking dive? I wish, it might have made my own night more interesting.”

“He’s not gonna throw up, is he?” a new voice asked. Roger didn’t know that voice. He’s not sure if he liked it.

He heard shushing from both sides of him. “It’s the taxi driver, Roger. No, dear” Freddie said, louder than before, “he’s not going to throw up. Roger, tell the man you’re not going to throw up.”

He’s sure he said the words “No i’m not going to throw up”, but Roger couldn’t guarantee all the syllables made it out of his mouth after his tongue suddenly lost all coordination. But it must have been good enough because he felt himself being manhandled into a car. And then he really did slump sideways onto the surprisingly boney curtain with the interesting shoes.

“They’re bloody clogs, Roger!”

He lost track of time and was only vaguely aware of Deaky being in the front passenger seat, which was good because it would be bad to lose John Deacon to an after gig party - when all too soon he was manhandled back out of the taxi and through a doorway. Somewhere along the way they’d lost the second Freddie, but one Freddie really was enough Freddie’s in the band so Roger figured it was all for the best.

“Well excuse the fuck out of you! See if I drag your arse out of a club the next time you’re too wasted to see left from right, you fucker!”

“Freddie,” said the solid curtain Roger had taken to clinging on to, “He didn’t mean it like that. Come on- no, Freddie he’s really drunk- don’t leave me… Deaky! Come on. He’s only said nice things about you the whole taxi ride. I keep being called a bloody curtain with weird shoes!”

It was true. John was too nice to be insulted. 

“See?”

“I’ll help by making you a cup of tea, Bri. And a glass of water for him. A very tall glass.” 

And then Roger was left with the bony curtain. Which wasn’t a bony curtain at all because in the bedroom light - and when did he end up in one of Freddie’s guest rooms? - it was Brian.

“Yes, Roger. It’s been me the whole time.”

Roger shook his head. That was obviously not true. First there was two Freddies. 

“Yes, and then there was me. Thanks for drooling on me, by the way.”

Brian was dressed in a long flowing black cottoned shirt, with customary long black flared trousers. He’d worn them for the gig and hadn’t changed - there had been something wrong with their dressing room, he couldn’t remember what -

“That broken pipe got worse and I couldn’t stand the smell” 

… and his hair glistened in the golden hue of the bedroom light. Like a halo. 

“That’s just your bad vision, Roger, and probably the vodkas. Now please drink the second glass of water before you lie down.” 

He was gently shoved onto the soft plump duvet on top of one of Freddie’s superior mattresses and a glass was placed into his hand. By Brian. Well, Brian’s hands. He couldn’t help but stare at them, the water drops on the side of the glass were obstructed by them.

He must have been staring for too long because Brian sighed and sat down next to him, still holding the glass between them. “For god sakes. Here, let me help.”

Brian none-too-gently brought the glass to Roger’s mouth, where it smacked against his teeth a bit. It made a dull noise but he didn’t feel a thing!

“Sorry,” Brian said softly, anyway. 

“Sfine.” 

Brian tried again, and between the two of them he did manage to get a few mouthfuls of water down. “Okay, more in a bit. Can you even remember what you’ve drunk tonight?”

Roger shook his head. He remembered the vodka. Then there was more vodka. And the red headed girl did some shots with him and her friends, but then her friends got bored and left, and the red headed girl went with them, and then he found a funny sounding drink and he wanted to try that because that place didn’t look like the type of-

“Okay, Roger, it doesn’t matter, it’s fine. Let’s try some more water, okay?”

The second time went much better, and by the third he was even able to hold the glass himself. He gave Brian a thumbs up and smiled. Which seemed to make the water dribble out of his mouth. Huh.

“Oops.” 

Brian rolled his eyes- oh his vision was clearing.

“That’s good to hear, Roger. Now let’s try that again without you dribbling all over yourself.” 

It’s not like he did on purpose, Brian made him smile!

Brian chuckled quietly to himself. And wasn’t that a lovely sound.

“Okay!” A rather flustered sounding Brian intejected, then guided the glass to his mouth again - quite unnecessarily Roger thought, given he did hold the glass just fine before - and Roger took some small sips again. And then he took a few gulps. “Okay, that’s good. You can finish the glass off in a few minutes, don’t want you throwing it straight back up.” 

Roger watched as Brian deftly unfastened his shoes and removed them from his feet and placed them at the end of his bed. “I’ll just put these here, okay Rog?”

Roger nodded, “Yeah, puttem anywhere, Bri” Roger mumbled. The haze of alcohol was lifting, slowly. Maybe. 

Brian hummed softly to himself in thought. “I’m going to get the sick bucket for you, Rog. Don’t fall asleep just yet, okay?”

Brian left the room, and Roger waited a whole minute before he hefted his legs up onto the kingsize bed and pulled his duvet up from the other side and rolling himself up in it. He wasn’t going to sleep, he was just getting comfortable. It was very easy to do with Freddie’s luxurious brushed cotton sheets. So soft and warm. 

Roger startled awake as the door clicked open and a slither of bright light came in from the hallway, slightly obscured by Brian as he came in, and left the door open behind him. He watched as the taller man coming close and looked down at him, sighing at what he saw. “Sorry I took so lo-” Brian cut himself off with a sigh, “Are you still awake, at least?”

Roger wanted to reply, but suddenly found he couldn’t. There was Brian, his tall awkwardly gangly friend Brian, the science nerd, standing just on the inside of the doorway, holding a garish ceramic bowl he very much remembered from the days he lived with Freddie… and he was bathed in light. He looked terrifyingly angelic. He looked so kind and gentle, and he looked absolutely gorgeous. Had he always looked like that?

Roger was sure he’d never thought that about his friend like that before. Roger considered it might have been the alcohol and his shit vision… but the longer he stared at Brian, the more he was sure it wasn’t that, he wasn’t as drunk as he was earlier and it was just like he was really seeing Brian properly for the first time ever. 

Brian sighed again, and then whispered, “I’ll take that as a no.” 

Roger watched as Brian gently placed the garish ceramic bowl on the floor by the bed, they made eye contact briefly before Roger rubbed his head into the soft pillow. “Okay, that’s right by your head, okay? Aim for that, not Freddie’s plush thousand pound carpet.”

Brian needed to whisper more in their songs. He needed to remember that by the morning… He grabbed at Brian as the other man stood up to walk away, knowing he was more likely to remember this important idea he told Brian about it before going to sleep.

“Yes? You okay?”

“You need to whisper more in our songs.”

Brian nodded indulgently, “Okay Rog. Whispering. Got it. You get some sleep now, okay? Wake up Freddie if you need anything.”

“Not you?” He asked, and knew he was pouting.

Brian laughed, and then must have seen the look on Roger. “I was going to head home... but, alright. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

That sounded good to Roger so he let go of Brian’s wrist safe in the knowledge he’d wake up remembering the importance of Brian whispering on songs, and tucked his hand back under the duvet where it could be warm. 

“Goodnight,” Brian said, and the door clicked closed, leaving Roger in blessed darkness, pulling him into sleep. The flumfy duvet helped with that, too.

~~

Pain.

So much pain. Breathing hurt his eyelids, for fuck’s sake. How was that even possible?

Roger felt the burn of acid climb up his throat and he had vague memories of a bowl being placed by the bed. If it was a dream, he would have hell to pay.

He wretched over the side of bed, and then was pleased to see the familiar outline of an ugly ceramic bowl Freddie had been given in a trade some years before. It had quickly become the flat’s designated sick bowl, and the bastard absconded with it when they both moved out into their respective new places. At least that answered where he was.

As for who he was with… he checked behind him. He was alone, so that answered that, he hoped. Unless she’d left already.

He had flashes of holding on to someone’s wrist. Someone gently holding a cup up to his mouth so he could take slow sips to ensure he wouldn’t be as hungover and dehydrated as he would have been otherwise right now.

He remembered laughter that warmed him inside, someone whispering and then seeing an angel bathed in light. He remembers earlier flashes of a golden hue around his friend’s head, but he distinctively remembers Brian stood in the door way and looking absolutely gorgeous and the sight making him breathless...

“Oh fuck… “

He was in love with Brian… and he’d told him he needed to whisper on a record. 

Fucking excellent!

_He was never going to drink ever again._

He threw up again over the side of the bed into the garish bowl. 

_Never. Again._


End file.
